(I gotta roll, this joint for my block
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White, Johny and Clock)
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Bala cool down, there are still bridges
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Our monastery is where the methods are simple, man
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More sleep, health at risk, nerves at a breakdown
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An explosion, and let the bass shake the water and stench
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Slightly uptight to earn my hundred
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We do our best, man, we share not money
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We share the fraternal sun, everything is as it should be in the country of the individual
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Here, a day lasts longer than a century, like ten years ago.
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The boys run away from problems, and we are looking for a place on the map
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Among the thousands of versions, they found a joint one to start it
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Kyrgyzstan, take aim, estimate the range
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Rush from one extreme to another
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Mentality is trying to raze you to the ground
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Enter the dance with her, but don't let us break
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I gotta roll, this joint for my block
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White, Johny and Clock
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Words are looking for light, we seem to be somewhere in the depths
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Who would be happy to dump in one direction, a lucky ticket
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Luck was caught by the tail, she bit back
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I walk calmly towards the goal, someone starts running
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Visibility to zero, visibility to none
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Lanterns in the window, smoke, apparently we are not
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A caravan sailed past, Salam passed
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Where only we were not carried, where only we did not disappear
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In the area of \u200b\u200bthe square, brother is happy to share
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We narrate briefly, here rhymes are like trauma
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The kid sprinkles drapa, dapa is more satisfying rapa
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Hip hip propaganda, we are already recruiting the hundredth addressee
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I did not deny the word, everything on my own behalf
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How is it yourself? |
We are here in search of the sun above us
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I found it in myself in the spans of gray buildings
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I gotta roll, this joint for my block
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White, Johny and Clock
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Eyes wide open, life is an exam
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We will achieve everything ourselves, how can we do it ourselves?
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Our meeting is like a summit, no more no less
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Ask my guys, they will answer: "Zheka is the same"
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I need a cache to forget about it, I need a beat
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To give out, rhymed portions of my freedom
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A cocktail of anger and impulse, on the verge of a breakdown
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What is already normal for us is unbearable for you
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Litter from the hut do not take out man, I dream of living beautifully
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In the history of rap write my name in italics
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Our muzlo is a residential area
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I catch respect from them, and thanks for that
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My quarter, mental alignments, how is it who
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At 24, I know a lot about these beats
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Rap is not a prank of a ball and not a prank
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Build up the staff, it's simple, to hell with all the disorders
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I gotta roll, this joint for my block
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White, Johny and Clock |